The Depths by Nick Thacker

Author:Nick Thacker [Thacker, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

MARK AWOKE, AND HIS BODY reacted instinctively. His involuntary mind was now in control; his eyes remained shut, allowing his other four senses to quickly assess any danger. He felt by his sides and sniffed. He was lying down on a stiff mattress, the age-old springs pushing into his lower back. The mattress was situated on a cold metal bed frame, and his hands felt the rough edges of the bolts holding it together.

He couldn’t hear anything. Actually, that was the strangest of what his senses picked up. Usually the human ear could perceive even the slightest of sounds, given that a certain calm and focus was attained. Most civilians had no concept of true silence, given that the vast majority of them were constantly surrounded by and bombarded with the noise of daily life.

But Mark couldn’t hear a thing. He opened his eyes. They burned, immediately startled by the white brightness of the room he was in. He shifted, testing to see if he was restrained in any way.

He wasn’t.

He tried sitting up but found that his mind swirled, slowly reacting to the voluntarily demands he placed on it.

He must have been drugged.

Without moving, he looked around. The room was bare, stark even, with just the bed and a chair in the corner. Mark tried fidgeting to work out whatever chemicals remained in his system, but found his physical movements sluggish and delayed.

After a minute, he stood. His strength was diminished, but he was able to maintain an upright pose for a long enough time that he felt comfortable. He continued to analyze his setting.

Assess.

Analyze.

Abstract.

Achieve.

He walked to the corner of the room and looked around. It was perfectly square by his estimate, about fifteen feet on each side, lit by cheap fluorescent lighting in two spots. The ceiling was concrete, and a horizontal metal pipe ran along one wall that intersected with an identical vertical one. The vertical pipe descended along one wall and ended behind a small water fountain. Below that, on the floor of the room, was a small round hole.

Three of the walls were concrete, matching the low ceiling. The fourth, opposite the bed, was glass, and he had to look carefully to see the outline of a door cut into it. He approached it and pushed. It was secured, and even by using his full weight, he couldn’t get it to budge. A small divot on the opposite side of the door seemed to imply that some particular person could, in fact, open it using a fingerprint or handprint.

It was a jail cell. Clean, pristine even, but a cell nonetheless.

Assess the situation.

Mark’s mind raced. He was in a holding cell. For what reason? How long had he been here? Would someone come to check on him? He knew they would. Whoever had taken him had wanted him alive.

Analyze your surroundings. He knew every feature of the room. There wasn’t much to see. It didn’t take but a few seconds of looking around to know

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